


On This Night

by msmorland



Series: One for Each Night [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Pesach | Passover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 19:22:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10646415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmorland/pseuds/msmorland
Summary: Passover ends in the Arthur/Eames household, and Eames is still trying to do Jewish holidays right.





	On This Night

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking about all the things I plan to eat once Passover is over, and this little scene popped into my head. This is (at least in my head) set in the same ‘verse as my fic [One for Each Night](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8926930), a few months later.

“Now, I promised you the bread-fest to end all bread-fests, did I not?” Eames says, standing behind Arthur and covering his eyes. He nudges Arthur’s knee with his own and guides him that way, step by step, into Arthur’s kitchen, which Eames had commandeered for the afternoon. Wonderful smells had wafted out until Arthur’s mouth watered.

“You did,” Arthur agrees. “But I’d eat just about any kind of bread right now, so can we just—”

“Hush, pet,” Eames says, giving Arthur a kiss behind his right ear. “I’m setting the scene.”

Eames takes his hands away from Arthur’s eyes as he says, “Keep those closed just one more moment, pet.”

Then the warmth of Eames against his back disappears and Arthur hears him take a few steps toward what Arthur is pretty sure is his kitchen table. Arthur’s stomach growls, but he waits as instructed.

It’s still strange, having Eames in his home like this, taking over his kitchen and leading Arthur around blindfolded. Eames had sat through an entire Passover seder with Arthur, and then he had gamely joined Arthur in eight days of matzo and kugel and gefilte fish.

Arthur had imagined Eames into his life for so long—and his imagination, whatever Eames thought, could actually be very vivid in certain circumstances—but he was slowly learning that the reality of being with Eames was something else entirely from what he had imagined.

Something better and more complicated. Something equal parts irritating and wonderful, much like Eames himself.

Eames clears his throat loudly.

“Okay, darling,” he says. “Open.”

Arthur opens his eyes to look at Eames’s bread-fest to end all bread-fests. Before him are piles of carbs in all shapes and sizes. There’s a large bowl of pasta. An entire pizza. Two loaves of bread shaped like—

Wait. Arthur pauses with one hand outstretched toward the bread. The loaves are shaped like a pair of dice.

And the pasta is shaped like—

“Eames,” Arthur says, narrowing his eyes and trying not to laugh as he turns to look at Eames. “Is this _penis-shaped pasta_?”

“Surely you recognize it, darling,” Eames says. “If not, I’d be happy to reintroduce you.”

He waggles his eyebrows.

Arthur gives up all efforts to contain himself and laughs. He laughs and laughs, and sometime during his fit of laughter Eames’s arms come around him and he finds himself laughing into Eames’s shoulder.

When he looks up, Eames is smiling at him, looking rather pleased with himself.

“I love you,” Arthur says.

It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, even though he’s thought it dozens of times per day for months now. He’d assumed that Eames knew, but now, watching Eames register his words, he’s no longer sure.

Arthur remembers Hanukkah and the hotel room, that crazy suit that he now has hanging in the back of his closet and secretly looks forward to wearing again for anniversaries. The way Eames had tried so hard with the latkes and that fully-lit menorah as a centerpiece. The months they’d spent figuring out how to shift the thing they had between them, which no longer fit the “casual” label they’d both originally said they wanted.

“Listen,” Arthur says, trying to put all of this into words. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. This is incredible and I love that you did it, but it’s all extra.”

“ _You_ are the thing,” Arthur says, and he knows he’s failing horribly at articulating this but it’s the closest he can come to what he means. He doesn’t need the things Eames _does_ , lovely and hilarious and impressive as they are, he just needs the person Eames _is_.

Eames is like a totem, Arthur thinks, hazily, as Eames kisses him. He’s too complicated and ridiculous and fascinating to be anything but real. He makes Arthur feel real, too.

“You too, love,” Eames murmurs, and he looks different than he had a few minutes before, softer around the edges, like he has finally, finally relaxed. “You too.”


End file.
